Embankment At Night, Before The War: Charity
D. H. Lawrence
By the river In the black wet night as the furtive rain slinks down, Dropping and starting from sleep Alone on a seat A woman crouches. I must go back to her. I want to give her Some money. Her hand slips out of the breast of her gown Asleep. My fingers creep Carefully over the sweet Thumb-mound, into the palm’s deep pouches. So, the gift! God, how she starts! And looks at me, and looks in the palm of her hand! And again at me! I turn and run Down the Embankment, run for my life. But why?—why? Because of my heart’s Beating like sobs, I come to myself, and stand In the street spilled over splendidly With wet, flat lights. What I’ve done I know not, my soul is in strife. The touch was on the quick. I want to forget.
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Next 10 Poems
- D. H. Lawrence : Embankment At Night, Before The War: Outcasts
- D. H. Lawrence : Epilogue
- D. H. Lawrence : Everlasting Flowers
- D. H. Lawrence : Excursion
- D. H. Lawrence : Firelight And Nightfall
- D. H. Lawrence : Flapper
- D. H. Lawrence : Flat Suburbs, S.w., In The Morning
- D. H. Lawrence : From A College Window
- D. H. Lawrence : Giorno Dei Morti
- D. H. Lawrence : Gipsy
